


Heat

by ladypimpernel



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Care issues, Slice of Life, Teamwork, Women Being Awesome, heat exhaustion, nerds falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypimpernel/pseuds/ladypimpernel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin is the type to forget to eat once in a while.  The type to wake up in the morning with a migraine and still push herself to bust a ghost.  The type to ignore her own needs when the outcome is occasionally disastrous.  </p><p>Holtzmann watches it all from a distance until she can't help but intervene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll go ahead and say that this story is meant to be a two-parter, so don't feel frustrated when you get to this confusing end of a chapter. 
> 
> I'm digging the Holtzbert (That's what we're calling it, right?) vibe happening in this fandom right now. I also can't seem to get rid of this headcanon that Holtzmann - due to her technical mind and cool headed thinking - must be the first aid expert of the group. This was begging to be written.

Holtzmann doesn't dance for anyone else. The thought floats through Erin's brain one Wednesday afternoon as she ducks out of the office for a vanilla latte at the small coffee place around the corner.  
  
At first, Erin thought it was the other woman's way of accepting her into their new, shared workspace. Soon, Kevin had joined their ranks, followed closely by Patty. Neither one had elicited any sort of reaction from her beyond basic acceptance. It's only when they're alone (or maybe Abby is somewhere off in the background) that Holtzmann cranks the 80s pop music and shimmies her way around their crowded lab – always managing to somehow avoid setting herself on fire.  
  
It's not just the dancing, either. There are the casual winks sent her way, the closeness of the blonde when she's asking for Erin's help on finishing a new toy, and the sentences that threaten to turn into very personal questions if Holtzmann didn't have a habit of trailing off.  
  
Erin shakes her head, pushing the thoughts out. No, Holtzmann was friendly with each of them in...unique ways. That was merely the side of herself she had decided to extend to Erin. That was all.  
  
She would reconsider this when, two days later, an event occurred which they would forever refer to as “The Donut Shop Incident”.  
  
The owner of _Hole in One_ – an up and coming bakery in Chelsea – places a frantic call to the firehouse on Friday morning at 8:16 a.m. A week into opening for business, they'd been plagued by cooking equipment going missing, baking racks being knocked over when they were shut down for the night, strange shadows that seemed to creep in the corner of one's eye, and a massive electrical failure no authorities could seem to explain. This checked all the boxes of a likely spectral manifestation.  
  
Erin steps into middle of the fray, entering the building unannounced. She was unusually late that morning, though no one seemed to be concerned by this development.  
  
“Erin! Oh, good!” Abby greeted her, almost breathless, as she hurriedly strapped the now familiar pack onto her back.  
  
“Uh, hey guys. What have we got?” Erin stepped over to her desk, leaving a croissant and coffee – her intended breakfast – on its surface. Without another word, she began suiting up, ignoring the headache that had been plaguing her since she'd first opened her eyes.  
  
“Spectral manifestation!” Holtzmann announces, a little too loudly. Her left eyebrow goes up, pointedly staring at Erin. The redhead's face wrinkles in return, openly confused. She didn't want to have to deal with one of her colleague's strange moods on a day like this one.  
  
“Down at _Hole in One_ ,” Abby fills in.  
  
“That new donut place in Chelsea?” Erin questions. The place had been featured in the Lifestyle section of practically every New York paper.  
  
“Yeah,” it's Patty who chimes in this time. “I would bet money that it's in the vicinity or on top of the site of the 1871 riot.”  
  
“Oh, uh, okay,” Erin responds slowly, unlike her usual self. It feels like they're spitting information at her a mile a minute.  
  
“You good?” Abby asks her a moment later, peering directly into her eyes like she expects Erin to confess something right then and there.  
  
“Yep, yep. I'm good.” Erin's responses are still a little too soft, but the headache seems to be receding. She can make it through just this one. There was no physical manifestation – at least not yet. Those were always the most difficult jobs. Should be a piece of cake – excusing the near pun.  
  
The car ride is familiarly bumpy. Holtzmann is behind the wheel as always – taking sharp turns and seeming to run over each and every pothole they come across. Usually, Erin isn't phased. Today, however, the trip makes her feel that at any moment she could lose whatever little contents her stomach currently held. She lays her forehead against her knees in a subtle gesture, her breath hot against the thick cotton of her coveralls. After a minute, the weight of the pack becomes unbearable in this position. By the time she surfaces, they're parking in front of the café.

 

 _Hole in One_ is cloying and humid inside. The owner issues a hasty apology about the non-existent air conditioning due to the faulty electrical system. He disappears then, not eager to return until they've dispatched whatever entity seems to be frequenting the place.  
  
The spirit turns out to be a reverend – killed in the 1871 riot between the Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants, which took place near the intersection where the building now sits. (Patty is almost always right.) He's also _a bit_ more feisty than any other reverend Erin has previously encountered.  
  
He punches, kicks, screams, and ectoprojects before they can manhandle him into a fresh ghost trap. In a surprising turn of events, Erin is not the only one to get “slimed”. Holtzmann also falls victim to the goopy spray emerging from the ghost's mouth.  
  
“Well, this is unpleasant,” the blonde announces; her tone flat. The slime makes an audible squish as she shakes it off her right arm…and directly onto Dr. Erin Gilbert who had chosen that exact moment to collapse beside her.

  
“What the hell?” Patty sees it, too – choosing to be verbal. Holtzmann is silent, but quick. She hovers over Erin with an observant eye.  
  
“It's the heat,” she says, plainly, exchanging a look with her taller colleague. Without another word, Holtzmann tears open the top few buttons of Erin's jumpsuit, exposing pale skin.  
  
“What are you-” Abby is suddenly there, taking in the scene. She pauses, a slow realization coming over her. It only takes one look at Erin's slack expression, and her eyes immediately jump to meet Holtzmann's. “Okay,” Abby takes a long breath. “What do you need?”  
  
Patty rummages, frantically, through the large kitchen – wetting several hand towels and bringing them back out onto the café floor where Erin remains prone; vulnerable. Abby has found a stack of tablecloths hiding in a nearby cupboard, which she's piled up generously under Erin's head. Holtzmann has made quick work of divesting Erin of just the right amount of clothing so nothing delicate is exposed. Victims of heat exhaustion need any tight or restrictive clothing loosened. Wet washcloths should be applied to the neck, wrists, chest, and the victim's pulse monitored in case of any complication. There Holtzmann was – eyes on her watch that looked like it was something out of the 1980s – counting Erin's heartbeats.  
  
“Erin. Hey, Errrrrriiiiiinnnnn,” the intrusive voice was the first thing Dr. Gilbert heard as she began to regain consciousness. “You alive in there?” A finger pulled down her left eyelid, and made its way to do the same to the right. The redhead's hand shot out, putting a stop to the annoying gesture.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Abby hovers over Erin in that moment, pushing Holtzmann aside to look directly at her friend.  


“You passed out. Heat exhaustion...we think.”  
  
Erin is agitated, insisting that she can sit up even though the other three women indicate that this might not be the best idea.  
  
“I just want to get out of here.” Erin's pathetic tone makes Abby cave. With Patty's help, she aids the disoriented woman into the back of the Ecto. Holtzmann surveys the scene left in their wake. She shrugs.  
  
“Well, I guess they can send us the bill.”  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  


“You saved my life,” Erin's voice, tinged with exhaustion, cuts through the silence of the lab. Even she knows she's being melodramatic. Abby and Patty had left the woman under Holtzmann's sharp eye as they took time to undress from their latest job.  
  
“Ha!” that's all the blonde says. She's soldering two colorful pieces of metal together at a strange angle.  
  
“No, mmmm serious,” the other woman slurs in response.  
  
Holtzmann is suddenly beside the couch where Erin is sprawled; soldering forgotten. “I saw you leave your breakfast on your desk this morning. Woke up with a headache? When's the last time you had water…or anything to eat? Obviously it was the dehydration that set it off...” the engineer trails off. She's caught up in her hypothesis, eyes wide, as her subject lays before her; blush spreading out onto said subject's cheeks.  
  
“I think I'm going to be sick.”  
  
Erin lurches into a sitting position, and Holtzmann is there; holding a trash can under her chin. Dry heaves follow.

  
“Emesis is a natural bodily function designed to cleanse our system of any poisonous consumables.”  
  
“That's supposed to make me feel better?” The sick woman can't help be a bit tetchy, even if she's already aware of Holtzmann's particular brand of comfort.  
  
“Feel free to vomit. It's okay,” The blonde delivers the statement as if she's reading from a script. Erin can't help but smile. At least she was trying.  
  
  
Five minutes goes by, and Erin thinks that she's emptied herself of every single bit of food she's ever eaten. She doesn't know how Holtzmann has remained there all this time – clutching at the waste basket because the other woman is too weak to hold it herself; right shoulder subtly propping her colleague up.  
  
“You finished?” The words cut through the silent room. Erin nods her head, softly. “Have that,” Holtzmann shoves a wad of tissues at her and whisks away the offending container.  
  
“I don't understand you,” the redhead blurts to Holtzmann the moment she returns.  


Holtzmann doesn't respond, just reaches up to a shelf above the couch, hands the sitting woman a scratchy gray blanket, and gestures for her to lie down. Erin does, tucking the blanket securely around herself and letting out a frustrated sigh.  
  
“No need to try so hard.” Holtzmann delivers a quick kiss to the crown of her head, and promptly disappears through the lab's swinging double doors.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chelsea riot was a real event that took place in July of 1871. It occurred at the modern day intersection of 24th Street and Eighth Avenue in NYC. This site currently holds a few small businesses, but none of them are a donut place - let alone one called _Hole in One_. If only.
> 
> Any and all first aid tips were researched (quickly) online or taken from what little I could remember from past training. I don't claim to be an expert on the subject.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [pimpernelpages](http://www.pimpernelpages.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging on while I navigated this chapter. 
> 
> Part of the headcanon that I carved out is that, yes, Holtzmann is most definitely the expert of first aid on this team and no one can tell me any different.
> 
> Not sure I'm 100% happy with the chapter, but - rest assured - I already have another Holtzbert fic (and an ensemble story) on deck for all of you lovely people.

It's Tuesday. Erin has had ample time to play back Friday's mishap in her head. She is mortified. She endangered her team, ruined a client's storefront, and who knows what she said to Holtzmann when she was half conscious. Then, there was the moment in the lab when they were alone together and she was almost _sure_ that Holtzmann had kissed her – gently – before leaving the room. Erin could feel her cheeks heating up just thinking about it. 

Sure, she and Holtzmann were...close. The other woman seemed to embrace her almost immediately upon introduction. There was always a spare wink or edgy quip reserved for Erin. There was a certain intimacy to it she didn't dare assume any further about for fear she had read the situation wrong.  
  
What a fortunate coincidence that the engineer happened to drop a small paper bag on her desk right at that very moment.  
  
“You didn't eat again this morning.” Holtzmann is standing there, arms crossed. _How could she even know that?_   Her facial expression doesn't convey the same mood as her body language. Instead, she's waiting, expectantly – wide eyed – for Erin to peer into the bag. The outside carries the stamp of the café around the corner from the firehouse. The same one that makes Erin's favorite vanilla lattes.  
  
“A breakfast burrito?” Erin questions, unwrapping it, realizing it was warm – purchased only moments ago.  
  
“All the basic nutrients to start your day. You got your carbs, protein, vegetables. Plus, you can it eat it with one hand!”  
  
Erin doesn't feel like eating with her hands at all. In fact, she almost always uses a knife and fork. She doesn't even try to hide the disgruntled look on her face at such an idea.  
  
“So it's not the no breakfast thing this time?” Holtzmann reads, dragging over a nearby chair and taking a seat to face the redhead.  
  
“It's not,” Erin admits, letting out a frustrated sigh. The other woman says nothing, just staring with the small quirk of an eyebrow. “I-I-keep thinking about Friday.” She expects the admission to be met with some sort of amusement, but there is none. “Did you...”  
  
“Administer basic first aid to my colleague who suffered heat exhaustion – a severe case, mind you – on the job?”  
  
“Ummm...”  
  
“Someone's gotta know what they're doing in this place.” Holtzmann leans back, cupping her hands behind her head.  
  
“And that's you?”  
  
“I'd be a poor engineer if I didn't know how to treat a burn, use a chemical shower -”  
  
“Rescue your teammate when she makes bad decisions for herself despite being an adult?” Erin delivers this statement with a chuckle, but Holtzmann is not amused.  
  
The redhead clears her throat, taking a bite of the fresh burrito. A smile breaks out onto to the other woman's face.  
  
“Not so bad, is it?” Holtzmann rises from her chair then, and begins to walk away – ready to start her tinkering for the day.  
  
Erin can't just leave it like that. She _has_ to know. Know if she's been reading the situation totally wrong. Know if those little winks and special glances meant _something more_. Know if she's making a huge mistake plunging head first into a situation which is now seems like an unavoidable aspect of her life.  
  
“What if we were out to dinner and someone started choking?” Erin's sudden question gives Holtzmann pause.  
  
“I do a mean Heimlich Maneuver.”  
  
“And if one of us falls during a bust and twists an ankle?”  
  
“I can make a splint -” Holtzmann mimes the assembly of a makeshift splint, finishing off with a pseudo-bandage wrapping flourish, “in my sleep.”  
  
“What about CPR? We're on an island surrounded by water. We're bound to get a call about a ghost somewhere near a bridge sooner or later."

Holtzmann doesn't answer, instead striding towards Erin so that they were now inches apart. Erin's head tilts up to meet the blonde's gaze.  
  
“Oh, Dr. Gilbert,” the engineer practically purrs. “I'm sure you'll find that I'm an expert in my field.”  
  
Holtzmann's kiss makes her buzz all over. Erin can't help but parting her lips, inviting the other woman to continue her ministrations. Hands explore her body, greedily. Erin balances herself, awkwardly, against the edge of her desk. One hand grabbing her teammate's face, and the other's nails scratching over her desk's metal surface.  
  
“Should we take this someplace else?” Holtzmann asks, the first to break the kiss. She's panting; breathless. Erin just stares at her for a long moment, not believing the turn this morning has taken.  
  
“Yes. Yes, I want that.” She nods, a wide smile making its way across her features.  
  
“Say no more.”  


 

It's a half hour later when Abby enters the firehouse – Patty only moments behind her. They find the first floor mysteriously deserted despite Erin's computer being turned on and Holtzmann's messenger bag spilled out onto her worktable.  
  
It's only when they spot Erin's familiar polka dot cardigan piled on on top of Holtzmann's gray lab coat resting at the bottom of the fire pole that they know something is up.

A telling, staccatoed beat floats down from the second floor.  
  
“Uh...morning bosses,” Kevin greets, sidling up behind him. “What's going on up _there_?” He glances, pointedly, at the ceiling as the banging continues.  
  
The two women share a knowing look.  
  
“It's okay, Kevin,” Abby walks up, draping an arm over his shoulder – smirk evident on her face.  
  
“Yeah, baby,” Patty adds, smiling. She helps Abby lead him away from the fire pole, hand on his elbow. “We'll tell you when you're older.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry about the mild cheese in this chapter. I think it was appropriate considering the mild angst and "slow burn" between our two characters.
> 
> If you'd like to talk about Ghostbusters - or any other fandom - you can always come over to my [Tumblr](http://www.pimpernelpages.tumblr.com).


End file.
